


one day i'll understand how to love with broken hands (or four times tommyinnit fell in love(platonically))

by thymia



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Best Friends, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Male Friendship, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, Not Canon Compliant, Platonic Life Partners, Platonic Love, Platonic Relationships, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29963892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thymia/pseuds/thymia
Summary: i reject your canon and substitute my own.your fave deserves happiness/the world/better/growth/etcthere's a lot going on, nothing is too graphic, but scars, fist fighting, alcohol/drugs, self-harm/self-mutilation, physical trauma, forced amputationwill NOT be updated[title from i will return by j tillman]
Relationships: Cara | CaptainPuffy & Niki | Nihachu, Cara | CaptainPuffy & TommyInnit, Ponk | DropsByPonk & Sam | Awesamdude, Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Sam | Awesamdude & TommyInnit, Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 4
Kudos: 89





	one day i'll understand how to love with broken hands (or four times tommyinnit fell in love(platonically))

**Author's Note:**

> “Vulnerability is the only authentic state. Being vulnerable means being open, for wounding, but also for pleasure. Being open to the wounds of life means also being open to the bounty and beauty. Don’t mask or deny your vulnerability: it is your greatest asset. Be vulnerable: quake and shake in your boots with it. the new goodness that is coming to you, in the form of people, situations, and things can only come to you when you are vulnerable, i.e. open.” - Stephen Russell  
> sort of a fix it, tommy doesnt get stuck in prison and actually gets to go to the grand opening of his hotel with everyone. he also isnt riddled with jealousy over tubbo + ranboo  
> i love gas mask!sam fanart/cosplays, my sam's mask is sort of a mix between trait from 1 trait danger/car seat headrest and wrench from watch dogs 2, the style of trait's mask but with the led capabilities of wrench's.  
> the puffy bit isn't as well fleshed out as the others but oh well, take it or leave it.  
> the tubbo bit was heavily written around candy by the blasting company, that's how this whole fic started.  
> also, ponk + sam and niki + puffy are actually romantically involved i just didnt want to put this fic in those tags since its not dedicated to that and theyre mentioned like twice.

Tommy hadn’t ever experienced true love. Hadn’t ever had the chance. There were always more important things, though he’d never admit anything was more important than women. He realizes eventually that true love doesn’t always have to be romantic, that soulmates can be platonic too. That sometimes you just click with a person, and not even death and a hundred years could dull the bond.

He realized pretty early on that Tubbo was his best friend, his brother, and the only good man. And again, when they sit together on a coarse blanket, in a hole in the walls of Pogtopia, the stink of blood and wine fill the air, and Tommy can hardly tell which is which at some point in the night.

“C’mon, Tommy! What happens in the pit, stays in the pit, right?” Tubbo giggled, trembling hands wrapped around a big bottle of red wine. He was right, sort of… If they got drunk in the pit then they wouldn’t discuss it later, wouldn’t tell any of the adults, not that Tommy thought any of them would be upset at the teens for drinking. Except for Niki and she’d just be disappointed and somehow that’s worse than anger.

Tommy also thought it might be a little too soon to be drinking, not for their age or anything, they’d both had their fair share of alcohol and various drugs. But it was only hours after the festival ended. Tubbo still had his shirt off, bleeding through the bandages wrapped around his chest, and Tommy still tasted blood from when Techno landed a hit on his nose.

But, then again. Everyone was out. Techno was deep in a mine, grinding for materials, Niki was off sulking somewhere and Wilbur was somewhere above ground doing God knows what. Tubbo had even managed to get into the White House to snag the wine since JSchlatt was fucking around elsewhere as well. And it’d be a good way to forget the dreadful events of the day, to sit and share a bottle of wine with his best friend.

Fuck it.

“Fine, but you better have some way to get that open, ‘cause I sure don’t.” Tommy chuckled, sliding down the rocky ledge into the pit, watching Tubbo set the wine down before taking off to find something to pry the cork out with. 

Tommy just made himself comfortable against one of the walls, the rough diorite digging into his spine but he couldn’t care less, at least it wasn’t one of the walls with blood on it. His head still ached, and he was pretty sure he had a concussion. It was stupid of him to agree to go up against Technoblade in the first place, but it was weirdly cathartic to get hit on the head, and to hit back, to break open a gouge on the side of Techno’s cheek, to watch brief fear bloom in his eyes before a big fist slams into the side of his head, rattling his brain and knocking him out instantly.

Tubbo came back eventually, he had pulled his burnt and bloody button-up back on and had a blanket around his shoulders. In one hand he carried a shimmering purple blade and in the other hand he balanced a dish filled with meats and cheeses, chocolates, and berries. “Grab the wine! My hands are full!” He whined, standing by the edge of the pit.

Tommy just sighed and pushed himself to his feet, swiping the bottle from the ledge and rolled it to the back of the pit before taking the platter from Tubbo and helped him down. 

“I figured I could turn it into more than just drinking on an empty stomach since I haven’t eaten today.” Tubbo explained, spreading down the blanket before sitting and took the platter back, working on opening the bottle as Tommy made himself comfortable.

Tommy nodded, gladly sitting beside Tubbo, and started to pick at the provided food. “I ‘aven’t either..” He admitted quietly, unwrapping one of the candies, to eat it whole. They didn’t often have chocolate anymore, part of the whole exiled and living in an underground ravine bit, but Niki brought some when she left Manberg apparently which was nice. She was always a good candy maker and baker in general.

Tubbo took a few big swigs of wine before passing the bottle to Tommy. Tommy drinks the wine as well, the chocolate made his mouth sticky and the wine just made it worse, but he couldn’t find it in him to mind.

They spend the next couple of hours passing the bottle back and forth, it probably isn’t a lot for an adult, but they’re two young boys and it’s enough to make Tubbo cry and cry and rant on and on about Schlatt. If Tommy had to listen to anyone else speak for more than five minutes, especially about Schlatt, he’d go mad, but he stays quiet and hears Tubbo out. 

Eventually, though, the torch in the pit grew dim, and Tubbo ends up dozing off on Tommy’s shoulder. But Tommy forces himself to stay awake for his friend, he’s drowsy and the pit is uncomfortable but he’d do it for Tubbo. Just like the way all the sweets made it feel like his throat was glued shut, and he dreaded the hangover he knew he’d have to deal with in the morning. And the way he had been trying to get off of all the various substances he dabbled in. He’d do it all for Tubbo though.

Tommy was sure Tubbo was the best thing that had ever come out of the world, he’d never admit it, it was far too sappy and Tommy Innit was never sappy. But he’d admire Tubbo privately. The guy was always bright, always had a smile on, always saw the best even when the world came down around him. He liked to act dim but he really was smart. Tubbo was surprisingly well versed in law for only being sixteen, he could read Latin, and was the best chess player Tommy knew. It was a rather foreign feeling for Tommy, and one that he generally associated with romantic love, unwavering dedication. But gazing at the young man asleep against his shoulder, Tommy knew he wouldn’t give Tubbo up for anything.

And then there’s Sam. And maybe he’s not too terrible either. All men suck, but Sam isn’t technically an adult human male, he’s some parts creeper, always ashy and a sort of sickly green color, but Tommy can’t help but love how safe he feels in Sam’s strong arms.

He’s caring and brave, and he tries at least. He tries for Tommy when it feels like everyone else has abandoned him. And it hurts finding him trapped in a small obsidian box, looking worse than he usually does, the skin on his forearms looks raw, and Tommy goes silent as he watches Sam pick at himself, skin easily peeling off, and he starts chewing on what he picked off of himself. It’s some of the most wretched stuff Tommy’s ever seen, but he can’t leave Sam like this. 

Tommy helps Puffy pull the heavy purple chasuble they snagged from Church Prime over Sam’s shivering form, and he awkwardly drapes a veil over Sam’s head, a corner of it hanging over the front of his mask until Puffy fixes it. It really fucking hurts seeing big, strong, Sam all sickly and lethargic.

It takes forever to get to Sam’s base, Sam drags his feet and keeps moaning about how he just wants to get home and it gets on Tommy’s nerves but he tries to keep his outbursts to a minimum. Just because he isn’t affected by the egg doesn’t mean its effects aren’t real. Sam keeps trying to get them to go once they get there, but Tommy insists on staying.

“C’mon Sam! Please! Please stand! You have to bathe, man! You reek!” Tommy whined, trying to pull Sam to his feet after he had collapsed next to Fran.

“I’m fine, Tommy..I just wanna be with Fran…” Sam moaned, going limp.

“You are not fine, Sam! You’re dirty and gross, and covered in sores,” Tommy pulled on Sam’s hands again, and it hits him suddenly that he hasn’t cared for someone like this in a long time. In a few months at least. And it’s funny in some stupid, cosmic joke sort of way, that he’s always caring for people older than he is. That it’s kind of fucked that everything always falls on local child soldier Tommy Innit’s shoulders. That Puffy ran out, took Sam’s insistence on being left alone at face value, and left Tommy to care for the man himself. “Please, please let me help, Sammy.” He begged, staring into the eye holes of Sam’s mask, the screens simply displaying a depressed seeming ‘/ \’, at least they stopped displaying woozy spirals.

Sam huffed a heavy sigh and finally gave in, letting Tommy pull him to his feet, and stumbled behind as the teen led him to the bathroom. “...Where are we going?” He asked quietly, curiously.

“To the bathroom, Sam! I’ve told you that! I am going to bathe you because I know you will not bathe yourself!” Tommy shouldered his way into the room, taking stock of what it looked like before sitting Sam on the toilet. He rummaged through Sam’s cupboard, finding something that he could only hope was liquid soap, and poured it in as he started the water. It was in a fancy green bottle and smelled strong, sharply sweet, and it had to be what Sam used since the half-breed always smelled like powder and grandmother. 

“Undress-” Tommy started, finding a couple of towels.

“Tommy,” Sam gasped, affronted. “You’re a minor..!”

“I won’t look, Sam! Undress and get in, I’m going to find where you keep your bandages so I can patch you back up.” Tommy instructed, tugging the lace off to give Sam a head start. 

“...Alright, I’ll..Okay..” He mumbled, fumbling to unclasp the mask as Tommy left the room.

Tommy came back soon enough, his arms full of potions, bandages, and a bundle of clothes that Tommy dug out of Sam’s closet all of which he set down at the side of the tub. He was glad to see Sam hadn’t killed himself trying to undress. He was surprised to see that Sam had taken his mask off, and realized he hadn’t ever seen Sam’s face before. He had salt and pepper scruff along his jaw, different from the light brown fluff that always fell over his mask, and he looked kind, even as tired and out of it as he was.

So, Tommy spent the next two hours, scrubbing Sam clean, the water’s a murky ugly color once he’s finished, but Sam’s clean, and fresh again. Another hour is spent wrangling Sam so he could bandage him up, he sat Sam on the toilet again, nude besides a pair of underwear because the wounds crawl his body, all over his chest and his back, and along his arms and legs. He slathers oils and potions onto every wound before wrapping smooth bandages over and around Sam before managing to pull a set of pajamas onto him. 

He drags Sam to bed, helping the man to bed and climbing in next to him despite his complaints. Sam doesn’t want Tommy there, and Tommy doesn’t blame him. But Tommy’s also afraid, worried about what Sam might do if he’s left alone in this state. If Tommy left and found out later that Sam hurt himself, he’d never be able to forgive himself. He was exhausted from spending much of the day taking care of Sam, but he’d stay awake to continue taking care of him. He’d spend the whole night drifting in and out of sleep, just to make sure Sam didn’t do anything. Because he found he loved Sam too, not romantically of course, but he still found himself falling easily. Falling into a deep platonic, respectful love for Sam. It was tiring and draining but Tommy would care for Sam, because Sam cares for him and it’s only fair.

Tommy didn’t often have time to care for himself, and few others were willing to take care of him. Some deep part of him would always treasure the short time he spent with Techno no matter what. 

Techno had found him in a pit that Tommy had dug underneath his home, and chased him around, demanding answers, and demanding Tommy give him his stuff back. Neither of which were things Tommy was willing to do. It took Techno an hour too long to realize. To see the bags under his eyes, the dirt and comically strewn twigs in his hair, the way he smelled like the sea and powder kegs. The way he wouldn’t discuss his recent past, the way he flinched at every noise and refused to let go of the blade he held.

But once they found a deal, not one Tommy was at all happy with but he’d go along with it up until he couldn’t and then he’d break off. And later after Techno’s rage had subsided, and Tommy finally let go of the knife, he could finally take care of Tommy. Techno finds clothing that is several sizes too big for the long lanky teen, made skinnier by his time in exile. Tommy stands awkward in the doorway, pressing himself tight against a wall as Techno bustles in with another bucket of hot water and splashes it into the tub before taking off again, he doesn’t have plumbing all the way out here. 

If he felt bad standing there in nothing but his briefs, hiding behind his hands, it’s even worse when he’s in the tub. He’s marginally grateful that Techno poured milk into the water, glad he can’t see most of himself, and Techno can’t either, but he can still feel the pig’s beady gaze on his ribs and his knobby spine as he insists on washing Tommy. His hair is rinsed but proper cleaning and detangling work would come later.

Techno leaves the room when it’s time for Tommy to get dressed, and he’s grateful for that. Grateful Techno’s eyes won’t be looking through him while he dresses. Pulling on one shirt, and then another on top, Tommy wonders what is it Techno sees when he looks at him, wonders what the voices say when they see him through Technoblade’s eyes. It’s a good thing then, he thinks rolling up the ankles of a pair of long johns that would layer under a pair of trousers, that he has to bundle up so much, at least all the layers provide a bit of cushion between him and Technoblade. 

“So, care to tell me what happened to your finger? Frostbite, I assume but-” Techno stops, he sat behind Tommy, working diligently through his hair with slippery wet potions, the smell fills Tommy’s nose and it’s gross because he’s trying to eat a bowl of noodles and all he can smell is the citrus and sugar. 

He stays quiet for a moment, staring at his left hand that curled protectively around the bowl. I’m not made for marriage, he thinks flexing the bandaged nub that used to be his ring finger, not anymore at least. “...Frostbite. Had to amputate.” He answers, and he can feel the doubt. He feels Techno's eyes glaring at the back of his head, and he knows Ranboo knows the truth. Ranboo was there, he watched Dream hack the finger from Tommy's hand. 

Tommy leveled the other teen with a careful stare. Don't correct me, he wanted to say, don't let this be one of the few things you remember. There was pity in Ranboo's face, he remembered but for Tommy's sake, he didn't say anything and just quietly went back to his meal.

Techno didn’t ask further, he could feel the way Tommy stiffened, he’d keep his doubts to himself. He just hums in response and continues coaxing tangles from Tommy’s hair, well, less coaxing and more of pulling and raking the comb through his hair, unaware of how sensitive his scalp was since Tommy beat down every pained whimper and went back to eating as well.

Tommy insists on going outside after Techno rinses the potions from his hair, he still sparkles but he isn’t greasy anymore, just wet and shimmering in the moonlight. He brushes off Techno’s half-hearted concerns that he’ll get sick, Tommy knows better. They sit under the stars on a makeshift bench, and there’s a disc playing. It wasn’t perfect, he still had a headache and he’s pretty sure he can feel himself bleeding into his socks but he wasn’t hungry anymore, and he was clean, and he had somewhere to sleep, even if it was in the cold dim hole under Techno’s house, it was better than Exile. 

It was better than Exile so it was a period of time he was grateful for. They had stuck to their guns though, to their own conflicting beliefs, and had to part ways. Tommy didn’t see it as a betrayal like Technoblade did, he had always been very transparent about his wishes. He never once agreed to destroy L’Manberg with Technoblade, he always refused, Technoblade should have seen this coming.

But still, he loves Technoblade, in some fucked up way. He still respected the pig, and he knew deep down Techno was his brother. He’ll still love Technoblade and Phil even if they hate everything Tommy is and represents. He’ll always hold a place in his heart for the both of them.

He loves all of them in different ways, but he can’t actually talk to them. He knows Tubbo will worry too much, he doesn’t trust Sam enough, and Technoblade never cared. But...Puffy did. He trusted Puffy enough to talk to without much worry and she cared enough to listen. He loved her too in a way he realized, not in a way he ever thought he’d love a woman. Not in a romantic sense at all, but in a deep revering way, similar to the respect he gives Sam. She’s smart and beautiful and wholly undeserving of every light-hearted jab Tommy sends her way. He’d never say it but she’s like the mother he never had.

She has him sit down in her office, takes off her hat, and doesn’t scold him when he puts it on instead. She’s quietly encouraging as she holds onto a book and quill, ready to write down anything. She lets him mess around, poking around the room and joking about the things he finds. 

“What’s this bowl of sand for, eh, Lady?” He snickers, pulling a small wooden rake through a tray of sand Cpt. Puffy had on her desk. 

“Just for fun, you can play with it if you like. That’s what it’s there for.” She shrugs happily, watching him sneer and flatten down the marks he just made with the other side of the rake.

“Fuck you..” Tommy mutters half-hearted, and they both know he doesn’t mean it. He just doesn’t know how to say thank you.

“Thank you, Tommy, you mean thank you.” Puffy coaches gently.

He huffs and frowns, raking the sand again. “I know. Sorry… It’s just..Hard.” And thus, he spends the next hour and a half just talking to Puffy. Not everything, but a lot, most of the discussion was surrounding his anger issues and ways to combat them, ways to stop the outbursts before they happen. Mostly, though, Tommy just cries, and it’s either the best or the worst part of therapy, sitting in the big ewe’s arms, sitting on the couch, and crying into her chest. It’s cathartic because Tommy hasn’t cried like this in a long time, it’s terrifying because there will always be a little part inside of him scared of ridicule. He’s afraid the entire time that Puffy will suddenly pull away and mock him for his tears, but she doesn’t, and he’s so grateful she doesn’t. 

Captain Puffy isn’t cruel, she doesn’t talk down to him or make him feel small. She helps Tommy own his feelings, own his stress and his anger, and his fear. The emotions hurt, and the stress makes his head ache, but they’re his and nobody else’s. She helps because she loves him, and he loves her too, and it’s surprising how easy that is for him to admit to himself. He always had trouble showing his love properly, but he does love, he loves a lot. 

He loves Tubbo as a brother, and the bestest friend he’s ever had. He loves Sam like a father, one of the few good men in this world full of awful men. He loves Technoblade distantly, like the estranged family he was, he’s a bad guy but he isn’t the worst. And he loves Puffy as a mother and not as a wife, she’s brave and strong and not small and weak like he misguidedly thought women to be. None of them are perfect but Tommy loves them in spite of their flaws because he isn’t perfect either. He’s often angry, lashes out far more than he should, and he’s too rough sometimes, and a little too prone to addiction. He’s a lot and he knows it, and he can only hope he too can be loved in spite of his flaws. 

So, standing on the roof of the Big Innit Hotel, celebrating its grand opening, he thinks that his hopes are true after all. Sam stands with his mask off and a blue floral shirt exposing the scars on his arms, he’s holding Ponk close and they’re chatting up Puffy and Niki. Tubbo and Ranboo are here too, they’re passing back and forth, a leash connected to a backpack that was worn by a spry little, half-dead, piglet they introduced as MICHAEL. Everyone’s in love, and Tommy almost feels left out, until he remembers these people wouldn’t have come if they didn’t love him.

Tommy drums his fingers on the glass bottle of sparkling water and gazes wistfully at the now properly healed nub on his left hand, at what was a deliberate attempt to rip any chance at love away from him. Maybe he wasn’t fit for marriage, but the family he has found is enough. It was enough to watch everyone else share their love. Puffy pulls Niki against her chest and they sway slightly, Ponk stands on his tiptoes and presses a kiss to Sam’s cheek, and Ranboo leans down to whisper something in Tubbo’s ear that makes him giggle and blush and roll his eyes.

They’re happy so he’s happy, they’re in love so he’s in love. His past doesn’t hurt as much when his future is so full of love.


End file.
